


underneath me, a secret waits

by EpicFuzzy17



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blood, Demons Are Assholes, M/M, Mermaids, No beta we fall like Crowley, Pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 20:09:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpicFuzzy17/pseuds/EpicFuzzy17
Summary: He doesn't look like he's a threat.Instead, he actually looks rather beautiful.The being has long hair, just like other mermaids, although redder than he's ever seen, high cheekbones, and some nasty injuries that definitely need to be looked at. It's definitely that and not the fact he's about to rescue a beautiful stranger. Absolutely not.With that in mind, he pushed upwards, carefully wrapping his arms around the lithe figure. He holds him against his chest gently, taking a second to drink in his face. Sharp nose, long lashes, a marking of an eel by his left ear. pale skin that may or may not be because of blood loss.Aziraphale really doesn't think hes ever seen someone more stunning.~~~~or the fic in which Aziraphale is a mermaid who just saved a redheaded pirate from an attempted murder.





	1. Overboard

It was Cabinmaster Anthony J Crowley was the one who spotted the clouds, sometime in the early afternoon. Black blobs far off in the eastern sky. He'd been too fed up with his lackluster crew and all their teasing and general douchebaggery to sit around any longer. Seriously, he knows hes a pirate but all the talk of raping the town 13km south of the nearest port was so…. dragging. Too dark and chilling a conversation in too dark and chilling room for a man who was most definitely NOT dark and chilling (not that he'd ever admit it). Grumbling an excuse about needing to take a leak, he'd popped out to the open air.

A quick drink break and a stroll around the deck later led to, inevitably, squinting up and finding low, ugly clouds in an already darkening sky. A promise of destruction. There would be no stars tonight, not that there ever were for his poor eyes. But from what he could tell it was going to make them fight to stay alive, and if they weren't up for it, then pay the price. He couldn't imagine how ugly they'd look if he could see properly.

Damned broken eyes.

The air heavily smelled like salt, electricity, menace, and unfortunately the kitchens. Sure enough, after a bit of squinting he saw it. Something that didn't belong in the mass of grey. Crowley finished his drink, savoring the last drops before they mixed with the salt and stink of the ocean, and tossed it into the sea. The distinctive plink! Couldn't help pulling a smirk to his lips. Too sweet brandy burning hot and heavy on his tongue, he went to tell his Captain about the incoming storm.

It ultimately took less than 6 hours for hell to arrive. One moment all was fine and the next they were all soaking wet, cold air like knives to their skin. Captain Beelzebub went inside to properly steer, demanding for the others to work and make themselves useful and first mate Ligur followed to navigate. That left Crowley, Dagon and Hastur on deck to do anything they could against the rain and the dark.

With nothing but a few nods exchanged between them, they all set off to do what they could against the waves and wind. Crowley climbed the rigging to set loose as many sails as he could. He wouldn't of been able to see with this disaster blowing sharply around them anyway, so instead he worked by touching, feeling the knots and kinks under his hands, able to slip and pull and hear the shhhhh as they fell apart in his arms. More than once he missed a step and slipped from the wet rigging as a result of needle cold and poor visibility, ripping his hands and neck, wounds hot in the cold. Hardly different than any other day. Save for, of course, the screaming wind and a mist that honestly seemed to be more salt then water to Crowley. He wasn't even completely sure he was wet, to be completely honest. At least the cold shocked him enough to stay awake.

Dagon was doing much the same at the bottom of the mast, tying canvas and rope in way so as much slack, but still rigidity was possible. They had to catch the wind if they wanted to stay in one piece after all. Every couple minutes when she thought she'd bought some time, she'd run and throw some of the more useless things overboard, make space and make it easier on the hull of the poor old girl. She tried to yell for Hastur only for the wind to steal her voice every time. He would've liked the fish that smacked her though, falling when another wave washed some stacks over on its own. She didn't, red face and scowl proof enough.

That only leaves Hastur, securing as much as he can in the front of the ship, tightening this and locking that in the prow.

Up above, Crowley winced as salt blew into his face and rope dug into his hands. Good God how it burned. He could feel the blood on them somehow, they still hasn't adjusted to the grooves long since carved there. His arms screaming in protest at the strain of sliding down, fibers ripping into already open palms. Really, he'll be lucky if none get sealed inside.

"Dagon!" Crowley screams from just above ground. "I don't think there's much more we can do. There's nothin' left and the mid sails are all set."

Crowley leapt the last few feet to the ground, landing hard, skidding as pain leaps through his legs.

"You know bett-" Dagon starts to snarl when the boat shakes, both sets of hands reached to steady each other as their ship tipped precariously to the right. There were screams as anything not tied on started to slide. Angry wind tore their hair free and obscured senses. It was wet wet wet all around them, and there was too much noise to even think.

The gods were pissed tonight.

"I'm going to help Hastur!" Crowley grasped Dagons wrist and searched her face. Then he was out of sight, lost to the storm

"HASTUR. STARBOARD SIDE!" Dagon hollered, a warning. Grimacing at the spray that shot over the deck she turned her back to the sky and back to the base of her mast. She tightened her knots, fear knotting in her throat impossibly tighter. She saw the wave first. "HASTUR, WATCH RIGHT!" she screamed, tasting salt and blood. This damned storm had to show up just as they were a day away.

Said man gave a cry as a wave swept across, knocking him to his knees. He could only scramble for a hold and wait for the water to pass before climbing up from his position. In seconds he was at her side. Skinny fingers fumbling with the ropes, knots clumsy but stable. Pale ones slapped his away.

"Go help Crowley with the back, fool!" she hissed. She pulled another knot shut. "I'll fix the middec-" She is cut off.Hastur has her wrist in a death grip. With one hand, he wraps them around a mast, and with the other he pulls her close.

The world seems to still.

"Listen to me". Hastur starts, low and dark. "I'm going to knock Anthony out. If he goes overboard, so be it. I'm tired of him, aren't you?"

A demonic grin spreads across Hastur's face when Dagon's eyes light up in agreement.

"Yes."

"Good. Play along."

And with that the world speeds up again. Hastur is gone to to the Bow.

Crowley catches him when he falls on arrival, keeping him upright when yet another wave crashes the deck.

Lieg tied the damn things too tight" he hisses, putting all his weight into tugging free a particularly hard knot. He doesn't feel it move.  
"Bastards gonna get us all killed one day I swear it''.  
He's only talking to himself now, as the wind steals any words that leave the lips. With a grunt another rope falls free. He lashes the two together, and leaves Hastur alone again.

Hastur, meanwhile, is weaving a net to support several ropes at once. He despised them but drastic times call for desperate measures.

Hastur just gets down from tying up his net when Crowley jumps beside him.

"Help me put these up" he says into his ear and drops an armful of poles into Hastur's arms.

"They go like an x in a square" he shouts taking two and descends up the rope. "Can you do that, bastard? he screams. He doesn't feel a tug from Hastur below. He can't see him smiling or shifting his grip on the pokes.

Crowley curses and asked someone up above for the energy to continue this bullshit and lowered himself to kick Hastur in the head. Much better. When Hastur still doesn't move, Crowley curses again and drops back down.

Before Crowley can move again, (he's really, lucky he didn't get blown off his feet) A nasty gust of wind hit and Crowley stumbles. At the same time, Hastur moves, black eyes almost flashing red, swinging a pole out, and cracked Crowley dead in the head with a too satisfying CRACK, smiling the whole time

Crowleym didn't feel it. Didn't expect it. Just vaguely saw something black from the corner of his eye and then nothing.

"MAN DOWN" Hastur screamed, high pitch lost to the wind.

"DAGON, CROWLEY'S OUT" he doesn't notice the woman whipping her head to watch as he mocked diving. Crowley, getting nowhere. When she could see again, she saw, or didn't, with a sick realization, that the redhead was nowhere to be found.

"CROWLEYS DOWN" He screamed again.

They saw him at the same time. Slumped and bleeding and lying surrounded by water and blood. So much water. So much blood. and it was receding. Taking the bastard with it.

"CROWLEY" Hastur called. There was no bite to it. They just watched with grins as he slipped off the deck and into the depths below. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself only a moment to smile. There were bigger, uglier fish to deal with. She turned and heaved, tossing a crate filled with who really knows what over the side.

"Hastur" she shouted. "Knock that barrel over. We have work to do." A ship was more important than a man after all and they'd just made this one better.

~~~~

In a cave, set in a cliff, with an underwater entrance, not too far from the pirates we just met, is a merman. He has short hair, a snow white tail, and wears a coat of seal hide. He's old and clever and can teach you many things if only you sit and listen.

Medicines, History, Stories of knick knacks, just how to survive. He knows it all, has for longer than he can remember.

He calls himself Aziraphale, Angel, keeper of knowledge. And right now, he has a damning sense that something is wrong. His heart skips a beat, senses blood the water. It can't be very far off. Someone is in danger. He can feel it. His tail twitches. He is older, and kinder than most. The other merpeople wouldn't be nearly as kind to a foreigner. Michael and their family would eat them for dinner.

No way he's going to allow that.

That settles it aziraphale turns and dives beneath the tide, off to find the…….whatever before anyone else

he doesn't know how long he swims for, but he doesn't stop. It's dark and cold so far from land, and so below the surface. He isn't even completely sure he's going the right way. panic spikes in his big heart, is he gone is he lower did someone else snatch him already oh i do hope Sandy hasn't ate him. He almost considers giving up and letting the poor creature slip away. He swims in a slow circle, almost certain his tale is making a small whirlpool, and swears he sees something that doesn't belong. A star in the dark.

Yes! There! He sees him, white skin in black waters. Aziraphale swam a little closer, lower to catch the human when he has too. being alive as long as he has hes…..never actually seen one this close.

he doesn't look like he's a threat.

Instead, he actually looks rather beautiful.

The being has long hair, just like other mermaids, although redder than he's ever seen, high cheekbones, and some nasty injuries that definitely need to be looked at. It's definitely that and not the fact he's about to rescue a beautiful stranger. Absolutely not.

With that in mind, he pushed upwards, carefully wrapping his arms around the lithe figure. He holds him against his chest gently, taking a second to drink in his face. Sharp nose, long lashes, a marking of an eel by his left ear. pale skin that may or may not be because of blood loss.

Aziraphale really doesnt think hes ever seen someone more stunning.

Red hair tickles Aziraphale's nose, and he wrinkles it slightly in discomfort. Moment over. But that can be left for later. Right now, the human is bleeding and in dire need of medical attention.

Aziraphale turns, and with a flick of his tale, he's off, cradling the unconscious human to his chest.

~~~~

Aziraphale ducked under his cave, guarding the humans head with a hand. No one had seen him, thankfully. That didnt mean he wasn't not going to be careful. This man was under his responsibility now. He wouldn't have Gabriel taking him away. Not anyone.

Not him.

He hoisted him up onto the ledge in his home,making sure not to jostle his head any more than necessary.

Clicking to himself, he turned and began pulling things out of boxes to help him. Balm and seaweed and lily.

It wasn't whatever human medication was but it worked for them just fine. It would do well.

He turned back to Crowley, brushing red hair back, wincing when it stuck to the wound. Large, vaguely deep but not serious enough to scar. He had last a lot of blood though. If he'd left him alone he might not of made it.

Aziraphale clicked at his own stupid head.

He set to work dressing and wrapping it, expert fingers working well known shapes and peices.

Satisfied with his work, Aziraphale picked a bag and turned to leave and look for something his friend could maybe eat.

He was halfway out the door when he paused, and as an afterthought, took off his coat and layed it over the man, taking care to tuck the sleeves under his head.

Smiling, he ran a hand over his hairline, as if in blessing, and then was gone.

~~

When Crowley blearily came to, he noticed three things

1: He was on a very hard surface that was digging too sharp rocks into his back.  
2: There was a wet, surprisingly warm coat draped over him. He could feel downy under his fingertips.  
3: Holy shit his head hurt.

Just thinking hurt, really.

Not heeding his own warning, Crowley searched the cave as best he could. Shapes on the ceiling and colourful ones on the walls were all he could get out.

Groaning in discomfort, our sailor gingerly, reached up to touch his head, feeling something spongy where there should've been skin. Tentatively, his picked at it, causing hot bolts of pain to shoot through his head and hands. Right. He'd torn em pretty good. He was faintly aware of rocks digging into his back and water dripping from the ceiling. The cave smelt too. Of metal and dinge and something earthy. Overwhelming. Unfamiliar. Unsafe. Heaving, Crowley attempted to sit up but his body screamed in protest, and Crowley was lacking the energy to fight it. However long he laid there, tugging the coat around his body for some sick comfort he didn't know. At least he'd remembered what had happened.

He knew there was a fucking ugly storm, he'd asked Hastur for help with something, and then nothing.

Fucking imcopotent Hastur

He was cold, in pain, had no idea where he was, and had probably been kidnapped by a shark or something.

"Well that went down like a lead balloon" he muttered.

Wherever he was, he had no doubt he was far away from his ship and was, realistically, never going to see them again (not that that was a truly awful thing. His team was a disgrace). Still, he'd be damned if he let himself lay here like pork on a silver platter.

He takes another moment to mentally prepare for the pain that's about to erupt from his head (and to say goodbye to the coat. It really is quite warm for being in a mostly wet cave. Its surprisingly soft to touch too). With eyes shut and mouth in a thin line, Crowley pushes himself to his knees, keeping his eyes shut against the nausea that swims over his head.

Why he ever took a blasted handyman job all those years ago he'll never know. If he'd known he'd end up like this he would've been a prostitute. Much safer and fun. But he's a seaman now, he's been injured worse and he was running out of time. He has to get out now. Slowly, Crowley rises, making a sound when he stumbles, and barely himself on the rough ocean walls. He can feel every point and dip under his palm and it comes away slick. crosses his arms, and jumps into the water.

He can't say it's not a shock to his system. He knew it would've been. More so than that, however, is coming face to face with a VERY attractive man.

Even in the dark, with his broken eyes, hes so close Crowley can make out all his features. Crowley can only sit and stare in awe at him. He has white hair and eyes that can only be described as the afternoon sky after a good downpour. There are laugh lines around his mouth and he thinks I would like to kiss you, but he won't remember it.

His eyes trail down, a thin line of hair, a round stomach (this dude keeps getting better and better, he thinks again) but where he should've gotten to the handsome strangers legs he instead sees a large white tail.

Crowley blinks. His eyes aren't THAT bad.

He looks again harder. It's a sharks bottom half. White and deadly and DEFINITELY NOT HUMAN!

The stranger made a clicking sound.

Crowley screamed.

And immediately choked on water.

Mr White Hair made a strangled sound and dove. He tried to reach for the man but he kicked away, trying to go down. The followed. He wrapped his arms around him, wincing as the redhead screamed and kicked again. A mess of red and white tumbled through the water. His bubbles made it difficult to see and Aziraphale clicked in disappointment. Crowley managed to somehow connect a punch, and used the monsters surprise as an opportunity. He pushed as far as he could.

It wasn't enough.

He had barely gone 5 feet when strong arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him back. That's when he saw spots, and shut his eyes and stopped fighting. He had no energy left. He couldn't breathe and God it hurt.

I don't want to die.

It was only when Crowley stopped his struggle and instead clung to Aziraphale's neck was the merman able to set him awkwardly back on the crag, patting his knee as the sailor criee and coughed up seawater. When Crowley finally stopped his coughing and wheezing some minutes later and came to again, he had another bleary eyed look around the cave.

He screamed again when his eyes settled on a very annoyed looking Aziraphale.

Scrambling like a madman to get as far away from his rescuer as possible. How rude. Aziraphale thought.

Before either creature could breathe sound ripped through the cave like a gunshot.

"What in the FUCK are you?!"


	2. A Little Help

"What in the FUCK are you?!"

Aziraphale made a tching noise, which, to Crowley's ears, sounded like disappointment. or maybe it was still the water in his ears. or maybe he was dreaming and any moment now he'd wake up on the deck with Dagon leering her ugly mug over him, yelling at him to wake up.

There was no yelling to be heard. The cave was silent save for their breathing. Rght. Slap it is then 

Aziraphale yelped at the sound of flesh hitting flesh and made a lunge for his hand, barking angrily. His grip was no stronger than when he's carried him, but it carried a very different message. In the brief moment he clearly saw Aziraphale eyes, he could have sworn he saw concern.

Then his arm was falling back into his lap, hand and face smarting.

Aziraphale wasn't close anymore, couldn't see distinct features belonging to the face in front of him, but he couldn't shake those eyes, and he definitely couldnt dislodge the tail from his head.

Definitely not a dream.

A fucking mermaid shark really did have him and was probably going to eat him.

Goodbye world. It's been fun. Not really.

An arm belonging to the mermaid reached out and touched his leg, feather soft, but unwilling to let go. With his other arm, he motioned to something light on one of the walls and made a low, long sound.

"You…… want me to move over there" Crowley asked tentatively, inching to the side without waiting for a response. Merman moved his head, whether in a nod or a shake he couldn't tell. 

"You have to tell me what you want me to do". Vrowley tried again. "I cant bloody see when you do something."

Merman squeaked at the sound of that. The hand on his ankle pulled him to the right, and that he understood. At the wall, Merman drew an arrow over his skin, and Crowley shook his own head. He didn't get that. Merman thought for a moment before lifting Crowley's leg experimentally.

He didn't get that either. Aziraphale huffed, drew his hand up Crowley's leg, and abruptly pulled him closer. 

A sharp cry in Crowley's throat was cut off by a hand under his jaw, nails biting skin. forcing him still.

Merman made a high noise, and raised his arm. Rise. That, he got.

Crowley picked each nail off his leg carefully, wary of claws and watching the shark ever second. Once free, he stood slowly, all traces of former dizziness gone. In its place was a growing fear. 

"Okay, now what"? Crowley said, raising an eyebrow. Merman raised an arm again, hooking a hand over a shelf. 

He made a noise that sounded a lot like look.

"Look for what?"

Merman pulled him down again, and with both hands, drew circles over his eyes before pulling towards his ears.

Glasses.

So Crowley looked, and even with his ruined eyes he could see them. He picked them up, crouched, and offered them to Aziraphale.

"Are these what you wanted?"

Aziraphale shook his head, pushing the glasses back towards Crowley, who turned them over in his hands. The glass in them was grey, and he could see the warpings in them. They were held together with gold wire, twisting elegantly at the arms and bridge. Clearly, they had once belonged to someone higher.

"I don't know what you're thinking but these aren't gonna work. my eyes are rui--"

A loud cluck cut him off. Aziraphale had his arms crossed, mouth in a small frown. His eyes flashed with something dangerous.

Crowley put the glasses on.

Crowley audibly swore out loud.

He can actually fucking see.

A pain he hadn't even realized was there was suddenly gone, he felt lighter, and all the details in the water and the roof and him nearly made him dizzy. So many things he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen, really seen.

He didn't think it would ever be possible. He'd been told only a miracle would make him see clearly ever again.

"I don't know how you've done it, but you have managed to find the one and only pair of glasses in all the universe that can fit me!" Crowley hollered, overcome with excitement. He could read again, he could navigate, get a real job, be useful--

Oh dear lord, he could see the stars again. His stars, that he'd spent so long charting and naming and tracing.

The thought made him giddy with excitement. 

Merman must of noticed his joy, because he too chirped, and when Crowley turned to look, really look, he could see he was smiling.

Ah hell. The shark had given back his sight. that was a good thing, it had to be. He wouldn't have helped him if he wasn't going to eat him. he had a debt to pay off now, whether Sharkie realized it or not. He couldn't not. He wasn't cruel or selfish like the people from where he came from. It was one of the few things he liked about himself. He wasn't about to change that now of all times. He was here now, in this cave, or at the very least underwater for the time being. He was gonna have to trust the shark, whether he wanted to or not.

Frankly, he was more inclined to the former. 

"So, what else did you want?" he asked the mermaid, lowering himself so that he was face to face with him. 

Merman looked absolutely delighted when he pointed to a row of boxes on a shelf on the other side of the cave. Even more so when he chirped and did a spin in the water, slipping underneath before coming back up. It still took crowley a moment to figure out he was sitting on some sort of ledge under the water. Any idea that this was anything more than a random hole in the wall was something he hadn't even considered before his miracle glasses.

Crowley stared at each in earnest, soaking in every last detail as best he could. Pointing to each, feeling reed, cloth, wood and something hard under his fingertips in turn.

It's the second box to the end that Aziraphale nods at. Bigger than most and made of wicker. it likely fell from a ship so long ago it can no longer remember. it doesn't ask so neither does Crowley, setting into Aziraphale's waiting hands, not before taking a moment to admire every strand and seashell embedded into it.

(Crowley isn't sure he'll ever not be used to his sight back).

Aziraphale took it just as wordlessly, but hardly moved beyond, just turned his attention back to watching Crowley with big grey eyes. Was it just him, or were they darker before? Seconds stretched, and the redhead began to ponder whether or not the shark had changed his mind.

Aziraphale most definitely hadn't changed his mind. The giant smile that had split the humans face in two had been downright adorable. Aziraphale would be lying if he said later that that smile has not completely stopped his brain in his tracks. Right now he's trying to get it to start again. It kickstarts with a rather undignified squeak on his end, but it's worth it to hear the man with red hair laugh so hard.

It was even more so worth it when he saved Aziraphale the trouble of trying to ask, lowering down onto the ledge beside him himself. 

Azraphale feels his heart skip a beat. unbeknownst to him, a matching heart besides him does the same

"So, what did you want the box for, exactly?"

Right. Box. Things. He pulls them out so hastily they almost fall, he has to force himself to slow his hands and breathe.

Firstly, he pulls out a shard of mirror. a shell with one sharpened edge. A roll of something green. A jar with something purple in it. They all sit in a neat row, and it takes Crowley up until the basket to realize these are the same things used to treat his head. He reaches up, and pushes on it, and while it already hurts less its still enough to make him gasp out in pain and dig his nails into his palm. That in turn caused more pain, because, in case you've forgotten like Crowley himself, he rather did a number on his hands before getting thrown off a boat.

"Sonofabitch" he whispers to himself. When he gets back above, he is going to find Hastur himself and personlly rip him limb from fucking limb. Maybe less. After all, he's the reason he met the merman. Crowley will probably leave him an arm.

Speaking of arms, Aziraphale has grabbed his. There's purple goop on his fingers, his head is cocked and his eyes look brighter still. He squeaks twice and tacks a tch on the end. Asking for permission.

"Go ahead" Crowley murmurs and then there's a breath of cool on this hand, then a burn, then cold again as Aziraphale's salve starts to work. He hears crowley give a low hiss of pain, cracking Aziraphale heart. No more than a couple hours has he known him and already he would do anything for him. Hoping it will do some good, Aziraphale sweeps a thumb over the back of Crowley's hand, channeling just enough of otherworldly magic. Relief is imminent. Both sigh for different reasons while the mermaid started to bandage the pirates hand.

Minutes later, Crowley's hands look like those of a street fighter in his home city, flexing his fingers as much as he can. They hurt, but not the same way they did. Maybe he's having a reaction to mermaid medicine. Stranger things have happened. Like the other dude with glasses saving the girl with glasses from jail. Cute couple really. He wonders what happened to them. 

Aziraphale made a low sound. One hand was upturned, the other had a knife.

The knife was very close to Crowley's face.

He eyed it warily, flicking between Sharkie and the blade. Silence sat heavy between them, so thick you could cut it with the knife in the mermans hand. His eyes had finally stopped moving, instead settling on Aziraphale blue ones.

Blue watched brown as well, Aziraphale seeing for the first time why his redhead couldn't see. Where everyone else had full, round irises, his redhead…..didn't. They seemed torn, his pupil bleeding into colour. Straight down the middle too. Aziraphale, who had been alive for a millenia, had never seen anything like it.

After what seemed like forever, redhead finally spoke.

"So, if you stab me, are you gonna want that back?"

Crowley doesnt think hes ever seen someone less amused. Aziraphale barked, grabbing Crowley's face again.

Aziraphale heard "you stupid human! Why do you say such silly things!"

Crowley heard "You stupid human! I'm going to rip your throat out!"

"Hey hey hey, what are you-" Crowley's voice cut off, mind already racing. This was it, he'd pushed too far, he was a dead man now. Aziraphale growled, and swiped his hand.

Death didn't come. Neither did blood. Instead, a weight fell away from his head. 

Oh. His Bandage.

Aziraphale made what could only be said is a hiss of annoyance, and offered Crowley the piece of mirror. He knew he wouldn't of looked good but what he saw surprised him

Red hair that was usually so well looked after lay limp, framing pale skin. His eyes and disfigurement were all but hidden by the glasses the shark had gifted him. His tattoo sat just under an arm in a rather satisfying way. Lastly, the crown jewel, a large, bright red gash stretching from the middle of his forehead to just above his eye. Jt didn't look too deep but it was big and ugly and if we weren't lucky, it would probably scar.

Now that he had seen it was was starting to hurt again.

Lord almighty had Hastur got him good.

Crowley turned, and pressed the mirror back into the sharks palm. Knowing he didn't have much of a choice, he sighed, ran a hand through copper locks, and lowered his head to the sharks palm.

Aziraphale smiled weakly, running his other hand over the man's forehead. A little bit of comfort never hurt anyone after all. Humming gently, he picked up his roll and began to wrap. He'd be a fool if he said he didn't notice how the redhead leaned into it, or how heavily he was breathing. At least his head looked better than it had a few hours ago. That was the important thing 

When he was done, we pushed one more thread of magic into him before pulling away.

"Thank you" Crowley breathed.

Aziraphale smiled, shut the box and offered it to Crowley, who got the message even without Aziraphale pointing to the wall of boxes again. He made a motion crowley picked up on as small. Up he stood, placing the first box back in its place, before moving onto another one.

It was smaller than his hand and actually made of metal, intricately carved with shells and sheep. He took it down, asked Aziraphale if it was right. A few nods, both confirmation and permission to sit down again.

Much to his surprise, when he opened it, there were pieces of cloth, and pencils!

So he wanted to communicate. He could work with that.

"This is great, but we need something to write on" Crowley said, looking around. "The backs too far and nothing in here is big enough."

Aziraphale looked sad for a moment, before perking up and making an excited peep and disappearing under the dark.

"Weird fish" Crowley muttered. He touch his head again. It was… interesting, to say the least, what the mermaid had done for him in such a short time. Bis sight, his head, his hands. He'd probably be dead if not for him. And while he couldn't stay here forever, maybe a little while wouldn't be so bad.

It was at that moment that Crowley's stomach grumbled and realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd ate something. Not that he ate a lot to start with, but he was still human, and humans need to eat. He wondered if there was any way to start a fire. mermaids didn't just eat raw meat right? Surely not. He'd bring it up later.

Just then Sharkie popped back up, chirping in delight. In his hands was a large, flat rock. He grabbed for a pencil and carefully, in messy block letters, he wrote a word.

AZIRAPHALE.

Crowley took the pencil from mermans-, no, Aziraphale's hand and penned his own name.

Anthony Crowley

He showed Aziraphale, pointing to the second half. Aziraphale took it, stared for a moment. 

In his mind, he was trying to wrap his tongue around the words, get them to lay flat and easy on his tongue.

"Cra-awly" he tried, feeling each syllable form and roll in his mouth.

"Try again".

"Cro-ow-lee. Crowley!"

"That's it"

Aziraphale looked overjoyed and said the word again and again, and Crowley couldn't help but laugh at how ecstatic he was. He tried his rescuers name on his own tongue.

"Aziraphale". the word bounced on his tongue, seemed to buzz its way forward and back in his mouth, taking up too much room.

"Thank you for the glasses"

Aziraphale made a few sounds, and then a rumbling one that he took to mean thank you.

He missed that Aziraphale had said his name in his own tongue. 

"Aziraphale, what kind of shark are you?"

Aziraphale stopped his chanting of Crowley's name, albeit still smiling like the sun. He took the pencil again, and this time, didn't stop when just the words were done. When he handed it over, looking quite proud of himself, Crowley almost couldn't read it. Instead, it was the drawing beneath that gave it away.

A beautiful angel shark was looking back at him.

"Angel shark, huh? What would you say to me calling you Angel?"

Even just saying it once Crowley knew it fit better. The merman was an angel, in some ways at least. He had saved him after all.Isn't that what Angels do?

Aziraphale stopped. A new name? But he's had this one for so long. Although he does guess it could be worse. He is partly Angel after all.

"Angel" he said quietly. Testing the waters. There was no great crash, no screams, no lightning. Just a word sitting in the air.

Then he said it in his tongue, and a smile spread across his face.

He nodded in Crowley's direction.

Yes, being an Angel would be quite all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come and talk to me on tumblr! @lemonadesuicide!


	3. Upon the Shoreline

Deep into a cliff, a seaman and a merman are learning how to talk. Simple words and sounds appearing again and again. After the first couple, Crowley forgot about the cold hanging in the air and the water around his legs. It was just him and Aziraphale, Angel, talking the best they could. To Crowley's honest surprise, it was going well. Red would write words they might need for his time spent, like up or left or danger. White would take his makeshift paper, move tongue and teeth around the syllables slowly.

"Downwards"

"Spark"

"Fish"

"Sky"

After each one, Angel would make one of his many clicks or buzzes or hums, sometimes accompanied by a gesture, prompting Crowley to guess what he meant. It was fairly easy work for both of them. although now that he could see, everything was easy for Crowley.

They must've carried on that way for at least an hour before Crowley felt a stab of hunger again. He would have ignored it really, he'd gone longer without food. Angels stormy eyes looked at him with concern and he found himself unable to lie. 

"Ah, Angel, would you happen to have something for me to eat?”

Angel immediately shook his head. Figured

"Well, do you have money? We can go up. There's probably a market nearby where I can grab us something"

Aziraphale’s shakes turned to nods as soon as Crowley had said money. He indicated to the same shelf where Crowley had found his glasses and up on top there was a purple satin bag. Inside was heavy, and when he looked he found the bag must've contained at least a thousand dollars in gold and silver flynns. 

"Jesus, Angel, where did you find this?" Crowley breathed. He knew the answer before the words were even fully out of his mouth.

Ships. Hundreds of ships sunk in storms like the one that had stolen him away from his own.

Too many people and their cargo had been lost at sea that way. Goods were easily replaced. People were not. He was lucky. Maybe he was the only one left alive alive of his meager crew. 

Oh well. No matter. They had served, as had the people that commanded a purple satin ship, and as now their coin would now serve him.

Crowley stood up, offering Aziraphale his sealskin jacket as he went. The merman just shook his head. Two sharp clucks told Crowley all he needed to know.

God it was even better when he was wearing it. It was too big for him, hanging halfway to his knees and a good few inches from his skinny wrists. The colour didn't suit him and Crowley has himself half convinced the style was the same as the kings. It did keep the chill away though. It felt like being hugged.

No sooner had he dropped the bag of coins in his pocket had Aziraphale grabbed his hand and yanked him under the deep.

He’d barely had time to hold his breath and make sure he wouldn't lose his glasses. When he finally felt brave enough to open his eyes, the pirates mouth nearly fell open in wonder. it really was incredible just how much a difference a few feet made. inside Angels home there were greys and blues and lots of boxes, but not much else.

The outside however… it was like Crowley had stepped through a portal. Everything was blue. there was light just breaking through the waves, fish he'd never seen before swimming past him. One fish, yellow and green and no bigger the palm of his hand even came up to touch his nose. It blinked once before vanishing into a mass of colors. Everything was bright and clear and beautiful. 

If he hadn't been underwater, he would have laughed. 24 hours ago he'd been on a dingy brown ship with brown food and brown light and brown attitudes. This was an entirely new world he didn't even know this was possible

But because he was underwater and he couldn't laugh, or talk, or do anything vocal really, he smiled.

To Aziraphales eyes, who had seen the ocean a million times, it was nothing special. It hardly ever smelled, every fish as a friend and every rock was a landmark. It was just his home. He'd never known anything else. The human was different. Watching him, it was like Angel was seeing everything for the first time. He had no doubts that he’d never seen anything half as similar as this, coming from the surface.

It made his heart sing, seeing someone else enjoy it. 

Angel sang for real, just enough to get Crowley's attention. When Angel had it, he let go, letting himself float before swimming in a lazy loop, making sure to flick his tail. Again and again he went, sometimes up, sometimes down. Sometimes not even making loops. At one point he even nosedived down. He couldn't see him anymore, but Angel hoped Crowley was smiling. He always had been dramatic, and being a show off was a part of the package.

Surely enough, Crowley is still smiling. Through the gray and the warping of everything around him, he can catch sunlight dancing off his rescuers face. Those are probably fins sticking out of his arms too. 

Crowley has always been curious by nature. It's what drew him to the stars, and on a ship to see lands he never has before. It's what draws him down now, gliding deeper and deeper until he's in the same path as Aziraphale. for one moment they are matched, one above, one beneath. To an outsider's eye, they would look like infinity, flying in sync in the sky instead of the sea, both being creatures not of this world instead of just one.

To Crowley's eyes, there is just Aziraphale above him, there is warmth in the form of the bluest of blues and a sharp toothed smile. There is light glistening akin to a halo and the sky is turning purple.

Dawn.

If they hurry they can make it.

Still below, Crowley points up. Aziraphale whipped around, yes those are definitely fins. Their hands grabbed for each other at the same time and then Angel is pulling Crowley again. They are going somewhere Crowley doesn't know of. As ong as they go up its ok.

It's only as soon they break the surface a few minutes later, that Angel lets go of his hand and points. There's land, actual land, and faint orange light just in front of the horizon. Although that's not what Angels pointing to. Just off shore there's a tide pool. Angel trills and pushes him in the general direction, although hes really pushing himself back out to sea

"Wait" Crowley blurts out. "Aren't you coming with me?"

Angel cocks his head and trills out a myriad of noises, which Crowley puts together a question of his own.

"You look like you're…. you're not leaving, are you?" 

Aziraphale looks horrified. Crowley feels a little bit of warmth in his chest at knowing he won't be left alone again.

"Okay, okay just come back, alright?"

Aziraphale doesn't move, just looks at him with big, storm cloud colour eyes. just as easy to get lost in as thunder and and lightning at sea.

Slowly, Aziraphale swims back up in front of Crowley. Golden brown and blue eyes meet, wide and open and full of questions. Angel makes a barely audible noise, brings Crowley's hand to his mouth, and brushes his lips across its back. The other sits under his chin, fingertips barely brushing his chin. It might very well be the gentlest touch the redhead has ever felt.

There's a teeny glow, just the barest of blue and then it's gone. Love spreads through his arm, up his head and throughout his body and there's a voice in his head that he recognizes as Aziraphales, soft and sweet and perfect.

I will return.

When Crowley's bearings return, Angel is gone, leaving Crowley alone with a wide open lilac sky. With no other choice, he swims towards the rocks. They aren't as high as he thought they would be, so it's easy to haul himself over them and onto one of the benches set within. Conveniently enough, there's also a slab rising higher in the middle. A perfect table.

With nothing else to do, Crowley looked up. if anyone had been around, they would have heard the pirate gasp with wonder.

Stars. not as many as there would have been earlier, but still twinkling down on him like always. He felt himself smile and felt a swell of joy inside him. The stars may of shone on the whole world, but they belonged to him. No one else as far as he knew had lost nearly as many sleepless nights outside or spent anywhere close to the amount of time he had writing down names and patterns and charts. They had been so beautiful the first time he'd seen them, how could he not? 

He runs through the constellations in his head, watching the sky for any of his old findings. He sees Leo and Collumba ans the Big Dipper, still bright in a rapidly lightning sky. There are no Hydra or Serpens to be found, his favorites, but it's fine. He would have every night for the rest of his life to see them.

A splash somewhere to his left steals his attention and he turns just in time to see Angel leap out of the water, turning on his back and twisting his tail before falling back into the waves, leaving hardly a splash behind. Crowley watched, mesmerized as the merman does the same trick over and over again. He's too far to see his face but if Angel is anything like humans, he's enjoying himself. Humans don't often do things if they aren't enjoying themselves.

Angel did one last trick before dipping back under the surface. Crowley watched, waiting for him to resurface only he…..didn't. He stood up, trying to get a better look and completely missed Angel going around to the back of the pool. Angel watched Anthony flip back and worth, peering over the edges for a shark that was not there. Stifling a giggle with one hand, rolling a word in his mouth through and around his laughter. 

"AH!"

Angel burst out into hysterics when Crowley jumped and nearly lost his footing, catching himself on the stone wall.

"Not funny Angel" the pirate muttered over Angels cackles. Angel pulls himself over the rocks and swam over to Crowley. The water was a rosey pink to match the sky, so alike they couldn't tell where one started and the other began.

"You're too late for most of them" Crowley started after a moment. "But see that one?" he pointed towards the north star. "It's the brightest one in the whole frickin sky. Sailors use it if they get lost. It always points North. It was the only one clear enough I could see after I damaged my eyes. Maybe one day it'll help you as well" Crowley forced himself to stop and look at Aziraphale, see if he wanted more. He was smiling and looking at the star with the same curiosity he had once. So, Crowley kept going. Told him of constellations and astrology and more tales of the north star. Crowley talked until the sun was well above the horizon and the north star had winked out, gone for the day. Crowley's watch is long gone but he's learned enough to know how to watch time. If he had to guess, he'd say it's 8 in the morning. 16 hours since he'd been thrown of Demon and atleast 24 since he'd ate.

Right on cue, his stomach growled. 

"Say, Angel. There wouldn't be anything to eat around here other than fish would there be?"

Aziraphale looked a little surprised at his question. Whichever part of it Crowley hadnt the foggiest. Aziraphales blue eyes turned a glassy colour for a moment, and then he shook his head. 

"Is there anywhere off shore I could go?"

Aziraphale shrugged.

"Well, what are those lights?"

Angel turned and squinted on the shoreline, looking for whatever glint the pirate was talking about. After about 10 seconds he turned back to Anthony and shrugged again.

"It can't hurt to look, right? This place can't be completely abandoned. Do you mind if i go look?"

The merman stopped wiggling. behind blue eyes he could practically see the gears turning and deciding on whether it was a good idea to let the human go. Finally, he shakes his head and made a "go on" motion with his hands, clicking his tongue a few times for good measure. Then his back is turned and Crowley's breath vanishes. In the very last dregs of the sunset, Aziraphale white hair has turned into a myriad of colours, touching every hue of a rainbow. He would almost touch it if he knew it wouldn't be as ratty as his. He couldn't wait for the stars, and now he can't wait to go explore and find food and be clean again. So, he stands, wincing at the pins and needles that prick up and down his legs.

"I'm going to try it. I'll bring you back something sweet. Don't go too far, mkay? "

Angel turned at his voice and frowned slightly, taking in Crowley's soaked and disheveled appearance. Airaphale touched Crowley's leg with one fingertip and then he is dry and warm and pain free and white hair somehow seems wetter then it was a moment ago. With one last smile, Angel makes a gentle shoving move and then they're both gone in different directions.

It really isn't until he's off the rocks and onto the sand that he realizes he no longer has shoes. His feet burn after just a few steps and theres needles digging in already but he can't stop. Refuses to stop. He had seen lights and damnit he was going to get to light. 

All in all he only strolls for 20 minutes, stopping once to pick a yellow bellflower and tuck it behind his ear. a well worn path is clearly visible, beaten into white sand and black crop dirt by locals and travelers both, black and white somehow mixing brown instead of grew. There is another whole world apart from the ocean just a couple hundred meters out in front of a gate that seemingly rose out of the ground. Hes at the head of an cross, smells and sounds assaulting his senses from inside.. theres a sign at his left marking the X as Soho. A fitting little name for a fitting little place. He pushes open the gate and steps into the town.

Sohos market is a mass of tents, wooden stalls, and tables selling every food and trinket they could possibly get their hands on that some poor sap would buy. There are colours and details and simple wonders that Crowley had not seen in years, and allows himself to admire all the shines and knots and cracks in well, everything. No one else would notice, but to a man who had been sightless for so damn long it was everything. Though blind he may be, it was clear that some stalls were darker and more sinister than others. He wasn't a fool. Crowley had no doubt that if you knew the right people there were…..finer, cruder things you could get. And while normally he’d dabble, now was not the time. He had a shark to get back to.

Speaking of shark, Crowley wanted to get him something. Although he'll get there, if he goes much longer without food he may just keel over then and there.

Just a few steps in, he sees a stall that holds nothing but apples. Green and yellow and all shades of red, in at least a dozen baskets. Fruit had been scarce upon the Demon, and he’d rarely had enough money to buy anything other than bare necessities in Eden. Its so he doesnt spare a second thought to buying 7 of the things, already biting into one before hes even five steps away from the vendor. A crunch filled his ears and he smiled at the old sensation.

He closes his eyes, letting the taste wash over his tongue. Its even sweeter then he remembers it. A dim memory rises in his head of his mother telling him that apples were the devils fruit and if he ever ate it he would be damned to hell. A young Anthony, always curious, always a rebel, had gone and found a tree anyway, deep in the gardens that surrounded his city on all sides. He’d stolen one, then another, and hadnt found anything evil about them at all. They'd been his favorite ever since.

Plums are the next thing he buys. Just a minutes walk down from the apple vendor, Crowley walks past people hollering their shares st hi, and the plenty of other people who walk besides him. Bananas, kiwis, a thing called pineapple that looks like its cvered in spikes. Other people may be easily swayed by wares of which no one had ever seen, but not him. He certainly has the money, but only so much strength. Only what he needs. And what he needs has so far consisted of fruit. 10 years is plenty long enough to someone fall to scurvy.

“Meat, matches, soap, ribbon, salt, bandages, water” Crowley mumbled the remaining items on histo himself, watching as the wares change the more he walks. People of all sorts are calling out for toys and wine and clothes. One man even has the balls to call out to Crowley that his Angels coat is threadbare and he actually turns to hiss at the man. 

right before the produce gives way to other delights, he sees them. Bundles of strawberries, some still green, the vendor claiming them to be the sweetest in all the land. he has piles. There's a few people in line already, ready to exchange their coin for the small red fruits he easily slips in with them and the closer he gets, the more he sees. Some are larger then others, and not one has a speck of rot or softness on them.

They're perfect.

He picks two, one large bundle and one smaller one, one for himself and one for Aziraphale. He hands one gold coin to the lady running the table. She smiled, then he's shooting him off to get to the next customer. he happily obliges.

Carefully as to not drop all of them, he pops a single strawberry into his mouth and bites, getting a burst of flavour over his tongue. its good, very sweet, but the apples are still better. He indulges in one more before shelving the rest and continuing to watch the bustle of the market.

A butcher is the next thing to gather his attention with a holler of fresh pig so he turns toward the tent, greeting the woman earnestly. Her apron is stained with blood and there is a whole ass goat hanging behind her.

“Jerky and bacon please” he hums, offering two gold coins when the woman puts his requests down. He thanks her, drops the meat into his sack, and continues on his way. The deeper he gets into the stores, the more he find out Soho isn't shaped like a cross at all. At intervals there are roads, leading to houses upon houses upon houses. The marketplace is just the center. That would explain all the people at least.

Matches and ribbon are purchased together at an odds and ends table, along with shells and lighters and jewelery and other useless things. The man sitting behind the table tries to haggle him and claim sales and blessings and all sorts of fanatics. They fall on deaf ears. The man is too busy rambling to notice Crowley swipe a golden ring from the corner of the table.

He is a pirate, after all.

He hurries away to not get caught ans strolls through what must be the very heart of Sohos market. There is music and there are children dancing and playing. Vendors are hacking off sweetbreads and candies to anyone who will listen. He cracks and buys a roll dusted in white that melts in his mouth. Its fluffy and buttery and everything he needed to still his belly for the time being.

Just on the outskirts of the center is a tent larger then most. Its white, and has a large red X On the front of it. There are two people sitting outside, a boy and a girl. they look welcoming enough, all orange hair and blue eyes. As grateful as he is to Angel for all his help, he is not a mermaid, and he needs human medicinal care, with good old fashioned alcohol and leeches and honey. So, he dips in, and immediately hates the place. Its bright and smells like something evil, the twins are grabby and curious and mean, twinging his hair and poking places he doesn't want poked. Yet he stands it, He's had worse. Only when the boy covers his mouth and neck and the girl reaches into the breast pocket does he panic and leave.

Suddenly alarmed and too aware of everything around him, Crowley pulls the collar of Aziraphales coat and hurries through the rest of the market. He only stops to buy salt and eat a few of the earlier plums. The rumbling in his stomach hasn't stopped, and as the morning stretches, so does the amount of people and free space shrinks. The meditent was a cold wakeup call and now everything is too hot and cramped and he wants out. Wants to go back the shark with white hair.

It's one of the very last stalls in the market when Crowley finds the last item on his list. A silver hairbrush worth 6 coins, which he hands over without even blinking. There's seashells and swirls etched on the back, its beautiful. the market is still a cesspool, although this has instantly, substantially elated his mood and made it a little easier to finish the little road that's left. even with the pretty little thing tucked away in his sack, he has to resist brushing all his knots out immediately. With all the salt buried in his red locks he's sure he'll ruin the brush. He pays another for a washcloth, and damn near squeals in delight when he comes across small bars of lavender soap wrapped in paper. That he buys a lot of, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice when he thanks the woman running the stall.

Having all he needs, he turns and starts weaving back the other way, taking in all the trinkets and oddities the stalls have. He marvels at all the details in things for the second time. He just could not help it. always curious, always needing to know. Such simplicity no one else would have noticed but ti a man who had been virtually blind for several years it was utterly fascinating. He reached up to his glasses and touches the frames, but didn't pull them off for fear they would turn to dust in his hand. Everyone had said his eyes were ruined. There's no way to fix it. Blind. He'd nearly been cast out of Eden entirely after it happened. Everyone was so uptight and insistent on being perfect. He'd given up everything. He'd been too happy to leave. Anthony J Crowley had never fit in anywhere. Not in Eden, with his broken eyes and all his objections to the misjustice and abuse of power. Not on the ocean, alone on Demon where he'd been abused for washing his long red hair and leaving people alive when he had the chance. He secretly prayed fpr those he hadn't been able to save.

He was so mad. Nothing was ever fair. Why did he have to of gotten injured, of asked, be so damn gentle. he wasn't supposed to be. He was nearly king of the world and his god damned accident had ruined everything. Stupid stupid stupid-

A whimper as he walked out the market stalled him dead in his tracks. There were 4 little people, kids, Crowley realized with a start. All huddled together on a raggy mat. They couldn't have been older than 12, all skin and bone and dark eyes.

He crouched beside them, giving them space they needed to look him up and down. Asides from Ziras sealskin coat, he has no doubt that he looks just as scraggly as they do. Sunken cheeks and dark eyes stared back at him. 3 boys, and a girl, all much too small and frail. Hes flashed back to a time when he was like that and how no one paid attention to him. He'd been soft and kind before that and he'd been soft and kind after, although something in his core had changed. A promise.

"Hey. I have something for you, if you'll take it". He pushes a rasp into his voice, hoping itll make him sound a little more trusting. His golden eyes never leave the kids as he pulls out four of his apples, handing one to each kid. Each one snatches theirs like its, well, the only food they've seen in weeks. It more than likely has been.

"Thank you" the lone girl among them whispers, clutching her apple to her chest. Her skin is darker than most of the people around here. The boys look like they could all be siblings. Tentatively, Crowley reaches out a hand and, after a moment, one of the boys witg shaggy blond hair takes it. When he speaks again, it is so softly he himself can barely hear it.

"I am truly sorry I can't do more for you. I'm not in the best spot myself right now, but when I am, if you're still here, I will come back for you. Okay?"

He offers a shy smile to the kids, and places another 16 coins down on their mat, four for each of them. Hopefully it'll be enough to keep them alive until he figures out a way out of this. 

He really wishes he could do more. But he can't, so instead he rises, refusing to turn and look at the kids behind him. They deserve better, they all do. Crowley leaves the market, sack significantly lighter without apples. His feet still burn but slightly less so, having adapted to the sand and gravel of Soho's pathways. 

He can see Angels pool before anything else, white standing out on blue, jarringly so. No matter. He hops them, easily enough, settling onto one of the benches. 

“Hey Angel. I got you something” Aziraphale perks up from his pile of bones and oysters shells. Guess i wasnt the only one he thinks to himself. the pirate says easily enough, letting the contents of his trip spill out. He picks up the bag of strawberries, popping the top off of one before handing it to Aziraphale. The merman examines the fruit, picks at a single seed, themn pops it inot his mouth. A happy hum left his mouth. His blue eyes were utterly DELIGHTED. 

“More?” Crowley laughed, tossing another to the merman. He gleefully shot up and snapped it out of the air. Crowley tossed anoher. Angel caught it. Back and forth again, although a different rhythm from before. Its actually rather cute, watching angl dance and catch the sweet fruits in his teeth. He jumped and flicked his tail, showering Crowley in a spray of water. That was when he remembered.

“Finally!” He exclaimed with a shout, digging through the bag. His grin was almost manic when he dunked himself under the water. His nails ripped across his skull and he forcefully dragged his fingers through it, more or less releasing the worst of the knots. When red locks floated in a semi even cloud above him he popped back out, head thrown back in complete and utter glee. he scrambled for one of the bars of soap he had grabbed, completely unaware of Aziraphales eyes on him, cautiously stuffing another strawberry into his mouth.

Only when he had the soap in his hand did Crowley's hands ease their assault on his hair. 

He stared with his scalp, moving without a pattern until he couldn't feel anywhere without suds. he reached for the silver handled hair brush and slowly, gently pressed it into ruby hair and pulled, letting suds be dragged down along with it. Piece after piece, all the eay around, feeling it occasionally to make sure there were no stray kinks.

Poor man was too caught up in the moment to realize he would have salt in his hair again before too long.

Behind him, Aziraphale watched with curious eyes at his friend and his ...ritual. him and the others had never had a use for, soap, he'd called it? He knew enough about human customs to figure that if they lived underwater they wouldn't need the same methods that humans did. They had their miracles that kept them looking decent in dire times, skin bright, hair silky and tails healthy.

Still, he had met humans before, certainly knew what pirates were and none had such devotion to themselves as the one furiously running suds through his hair.

He smiled around a strawberry.

Cute things, humans were. Every one Aziraphale had met had had a certain quirk. The handful Aziraphale had all known had each had their own quirks and hobbies. Quinn had liked to sew, Isaac liked books, Marcuis had loved animals and had made friends with the fish in the village. Crowleys, it seemed, was his appearance. Long fingers raked through copper strands, followed by silver wire. Again and again, purple bubbling in between. Fruit after fruit. Brush after brush. Pop after stroke after pop after stroke. It was a coincidence that the mermaid finished off his strawberries at the same time Crowley finished with his hair. It looked signifigantly more straight, much softer then before. With his hair, and his glasses, and Angels coat, he looked like something even more otherwordly then Aziraphale himself.

“Ah, Angel” Crowley's gold eyes turned to Aziraphales, happiness clear as the sea around them. “Can you do this for me?” from his hands dangled a length of ribbon. His eyebrows were raised, clearly a question.

Aziraphale froze. Did he really want…? His hair looked so soft, and he just washed it, and Aziraphale knows his hands are tough and nothing compared to the soft texture Crowley's hair must be. He can't touch it, he'd only make it ratty again and that would do no good at all.

“Are you sure?” there is no way in all of the seven seas that he can do good in this regard. the words still felt clunky and thick in his mouth, unfit for his mouths shape. Crowleys smile growing tenfold certainly was though.

"I-I he even stuttered over a single letter, stupid and a distressed cluck came out instead. He can feel himself start to shake, he is about to come down, and he can't even explain anything. Angel waver his arm and a shrill cry gets out before he can stomp it down. In a last bid he yanked on a piece of his own white tresses and shakes his head, nearly ripping out the poor thing. With his free hand he points to himself. It's not his best charade but at the moment it's all he can come up with. 

"Oh, Angel" Crowley sighed at Aziraphales outburst, grabbing one of his hands in a firm but not uncaring grip

“Of course. I wouldn't of asked if I wasnt” something had slipped into his voice but it wasn't bad. He could feel it. The ribbon picked at his calloused hands, threads woven and scratchy. How anyone would use this was beyond Angel. Regardless, the human turned his back to the merman. Aziraphale looked at the ribbon, looked at Crowleys hair, and back to the ribbon. His hair looked so soft, and he wanted to sully it? Ah, but he couldnt disappoint him…. So Aziraphale took half of Crowleys fire red hair into his hands, and began to twist. He had seen michael do her hair before, her elegant updo fastned with many metal pins she claims to of fashioned herself. It didnt look too hard. 

Up, in half, around drop, take from the sides, Aziraphalesfingers weaving peices of his pirates hair together and a few times around his own hands. Gods, it was so soft. Whatever Crowley had used to wash out all the salt and blood had down wonders.

Twist, tighten, together. Undo the knot he had made first, then do it again, this time with the crown braids hanging down the back of his neck. Pull apart the knot again aaaaand done. 

Aziraphale reluctantly let go of Crowley, almost whimpering when the last of the red fell back to his head. A short buzz told Crowley his hair was completed, everything loose swishing back and forth as he turned his head to admire Aziraphales work.

“Well done” he mused, running a hand over the braids that ran alongside his head. “Im nearly done eating, when I am would you mind showing me around where you live?"

Angel tilted his head and squeaked, one eyebrow raised. "Live?" he asked "you…." he trailed off, unable to say the next word. He pointed to his eyes, and gestured all around them. 

"Not the cave Angel. Don't you have a city? You can't be the only one".

Angel looked away, a flush tipping his ears. His hands twirled around each other, turning in and put in a very "weeeell……." fashion. His tail flipped out of the water in sporadic fashion. When he looked at Crowley again, he seemed worried. 

"We don't have to Angel, dont worry about it"

Aziraphales shoulders dropped in relief and he made a ticking sound in Crowley's direction. Minutes later, the last apple was gone as well as half of the jerky he had purchased earlier. When everything was packed and sealed, Aziraphale was grabbing his hand and pulling him up and over the stone wall and under the waves again.

The swim back to the cave was much shorter than leaving it, quite possibly because they weren't gawking at anything and everything. Aziraphale still giggled at Crowley's puffed cheeks and pointed out a seahorse the same colour as their hairs and if he tightened his grip on the redhead then neither of them acknowledged it. He saw there were fins on Aziraphales body, pale yellow and blue from his arms and ears. There were even gills on his neck, hidden slightly by wispy white. He really was beautiful, in all meanings of the word.

At the mouth of Aziraphale home, said merman stopped swimming. He let go of Crowley and used his tail to push him back slightly before dipping into the opening. When he came back, his eyes were a much brighter blue then the stormy colour he was already used to. Angel made a quick description with his hands, one walking behind the wall of the other, and pressed a finger to his lips. His fangs were out too. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good.

They swam back under together, Crowley doing the best he could to stay behind the merman like he'd been instructed. Just because he could see the cave didn't mean whatever Aziraphale was so anxious about could see him.

They popped into the air, Crowley staying as in line to Aziraphales back as he possibly could. 

As it turns out, the thing Angel was so worried about was another merman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school sucks and comments dont!


End file.
